Epilation
by Tsumi-Amethyst
Summary: Kuja just wants five minutes of peace and quiet to epilate his legs... but Kefka just doesn't want to let that happen! Slight Kuja/Kefka, yaoi, some violence.


Author's notes: I actually started writing this about 5 years ago. Today I have been incredibly bored and decided to find it and finish it. I'm fairly happy with how it came out, even though I think it's a little weird. Rated T, but don't get too excited. Enjoy!

He knew he was being watched. Kuja paused, straightened his back, legs dangling off the edge of a platform in the Crystal World, and said aloud to the surroundings:

"Come out; come out, whoever you are."

There was nothing. The silver-haired villain scanned his environment, expecting Zidane to have come for him, peeking out from behind one of the orange crystals, ready to attack. Kuja frowned, quickly casting a blizzard spell and firing it at a nearby crystal. He watched, transfixed as the orange shards rocketed towards the ground, the crystal itself regenerating after a moment. Though he couldn't rid himself of the fear that he was being watched, he was satisfied that he had at least scared off his silent, unseen observer with his display of power.

With a sigh, Kuja picked up his epilator again, when he thought he heard someone sniggering to his side. Quickly he turned, floating, summoning two Ultima spells and keeping them in his hands, ready to fire at the slightest hint of movement. He tried to pinpoint the exact location of the laughter, the tone somewhat familiar. Rolling his eyes, Kuja dismissed the spell and gracefully let himself back down, staring out into the distance of his preferred fighting ground.

"Kefka," was all he said. At this, the clown himself appeared next to the villain, peering curiously over at the tool in Kuja's hands. He rocked on his tip toes as he stared.

"What you got there, pretty boy?" The magician trilled. He swung his legs over the ledge only a little as he took a seat beside the silver-haired villain. Kuja stiffened. He resented intimate contact with anyone, let alone the unhinged ally of Chaos. He pulled his arm away as Kefka tried to look closer, sighing irritably.

"It's an epilator, ignorant one." He edged away from Kefka, who apparently hadn't noticed the dramatist's discomfort, and had kept leaning across, as if compelled to touch – or destroy, it wasn't clear which - the object in his hands. He carried on nonchalantly, continuing to edge away from the crazed man. "Looking this good doesn't come naturally, you know. I'm sure you appreciate that." He gestured to the clown's make up, though the only reaction he got was a slight tilt of the head, a hand touching his cheek.

"Is there something on my face?" Hysterical panic consumed Kefka's voice, and it was unclear whether he was being genuine or not. Kuja just grunted, rolling his eyes and shifting away from Kefka. Usually he would conspire with the magician, intrigued as his temperament shifted at the drop of a hat, but he was simply not in the mood to be bothered. His last fight had injured him and his pride, so he was certainly not prepared to deal with Kefka's flux from insanity to full-blown eccentricity.

Kuja had edged away to the point where Kefka was close to falling off the cliff-face, though still he seemed ignorant of this possibility. Kefka inched closer just a little bit more before succumbing to gravity, falling over the edge. Unaffected by the clown's stupidity, Kuja carried on as he had been, ridding himself of the stray hairs that had grown back over the past week, removing his thigh-length boots to do so. He allowed himself a small smile as he heard Kefka's body make contact with the ground below, hearing a feeble "Kerplunk..." as he did. The dramatist sensed the clown simply run back up the side of the platform, landing back beside him with another loud thud, and he heaved a weary sigh. He just wanted to be alone for just five minutes. Epilating was hardly something one did in the company of sort-of-but-not-really friends. Why was this too much to ask?

Then Kuja realised just how close the madman was to him; he had casually slung a leg across Kuja's. This sudden closeness distracted Kuja, and he swore as he caught more hair than he had intended, the sting subsiding after a moment. He clapped a hand over the sore area, hissing as the pain faded. 'I'd better not have a red patch after that, or I'll kill him with my bare hands,' Kuja thought to himself, eyeing the giggling clown with annoyance.

And still, Kefka was watching, wondering, bobbing his head from side to side. As Kuja removed his hand, the skin had broken, the blades having dug in just a little too much, and a tiny pinprick of blood rose to the surface. Irritably, Kuja wiped it away. He jumped a little, unprepared when Kefka burst out laughing, thankful he hadn't been holding the epilator to his skin _that_ time. He rose a hand to his face, trying to compose himself, wondering just how many other colourful ways the magician had of keeping the Genome on his toes.

"My MY, pretty boy! I had no idea you cut yourself, too! Maybe you and the Chocobo should get together and have a little slumber party!" Kefka picked up an imaginary pillow and began hitting an invisible Cloud Strife, much to Kuja's irritation.

"I am NOT cutting myself, clown," Kuja said through gritted teeth, the other man's presence truly beginning to frustrate him at this point. "This. Is. An. Epilator. It plucks the hairs out from the root so you don't have to shave your legs as often."

At this, Kefka stopped, the imaginary pillow held limply at his side, happiness deflating for the moment. He stared at the dramatist for a moment, a blank expression on his face – which, needless to say, scared Kuja terribly – before his face broke into a giant grin. He continued to whack midair with his imaginary pillow, smirking.

"As I said, slumber party. Come on, it'd be FUN!" The clown leapt to his feet, ignoring the furious look on Kuja's face, gesticulating wildly as he got more and more excited as he listed the things they would do, the "fun you could have!"

"You could paint your nails, give each other a makeover, and OOH! You could even try on each other's outfits! That would be a total RIOT! Whattaya say, how about covering up that pasty belly of yours, hmm?" At this, Kefka poked at Kuja's exposed flesh, and the magician jerked away, floating above the deranged nihilist. The silver-haired villain's eyes were ablaze with anger, and he summoned two fireballs to launch at the Jester. Kefka evaded them with ease, sticking his tongue out childishly when they missed and smashed the crystals behind him.

"Was it something I said?" He asked, hands on his hips, the smirk on his face letting the Genome know the concern in his voice was insincere. He took up his imaginary pillow again and jumped a little on the balls of his feet, pretending that it was a shield to the blows he would surely be dodging in a moments' time. "Come on, pretty boy. Hit me with your best shot. Do it, do it do it do it DO IT!"

Kuja recoiled slightly as Kefka's voice became crazed, narrowly dodging the spells Kefka lunged at him without warning. He watched from above as yet more crystals shattered behind him, realising for the first time just why the clown was so deadly.

Everything the man did was totally unexpected. There was no pattern to his actions, nothing that even hinted at what he was thinking. Kefka was the definition of a being that was nothing but impulsive; he was one of those creatures that logic could not be applied to when seeking an explanation for his actions. And as much as Kuja revered that kind of power, the infinite advantages that gave Kefka over his adversaries, it was also a power that he feared. His attention snapped back to the dancing clown below him, so tense that he felt his body ready itself to dodge aside.

Still bouncing on the spot, Kefka hurled another spell at the cautious Genome. He managed to evade the initial barrage, though Kefka managed to encase Kuja in a Trine spell. He giggled gleefully as Kuja cried out in frustration and pain, knowing from past experience just how searing the pain of a well-placed Trine spell could be. He watched as the dramatist recovered himself in midair, plainly enraged, and it made him laugh harder.

Reeling from the force of Kefka's magic, Kuja launched a frenzy of elemental magic back at the crazed magician, frustration and fear now his primary motivations. His heart was racing, and he did not cease his assault on the villain until his breath became short from murmuring incantations, his arms weary from directing the magic along. The Genome took a moment to catch his breath, eyes focused on the spot where Kefka had been, eyes narrowing in confusion as the smoke cleared and he was nowhere to be seen. As he heard the blond snigger behind him, he let his body throw him to the side to avoid the fresh onslaught. And all the while the pretty mage heard Kefka's laughter getting louder, more excited; as if causing pain was the clown's one true joy in life.

Kuja was about to summon Ultima when he was tackled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him as he was tackled in midair, so shocked he couldn't move or struggle as he crashed heavily into the ground, crying out in pain as he did. Then Kefka wrenched his head back, grip tight in the Genome's hair, and suddenly Kuja couldn't breathe, eyes wide as he felt a rapier pressed against his neck. 'A hidden weapon,' he thought to himself wearily.

"That. Wasn't. Funny." Kefka said softly, pausing between each word. He pulled Kuja's face close to his own. The silver-haired man's ragged breath stirred the hair around his face.

Kefka's eyes blazed with a fury his voice did not betray, and Kuja was convinced for a moment that he was as good as dead. Then, Kefka pushed him away, and sat cross-legged on the ground. "You spoiled the fun." Now, the clown allowed some malice to creep into his voice. Kuja gathered himself, never once letting his eyes stray from the dangerous man in front of him.

Then, Kefka sheathed the rapier – in his boot, of all places – and vanished into thin air. Kuja sat staring at the spot where the clown had been for a long time, his scalp taut from the abuse Kefka had given it.

Eventually, Kuja stirred himself, and he went to retrieve the long-forgotten epilator from the cliff-edge. He picked it up and resumed his task, not quite sure what to make of his most recent interaction with the madman.

He was just about done when Kefka reappeared again. This time, Kuja was well aware of the other's presence, though neither made any attempt at conversation. He risked a glance back at the clown, who was watching him, completely still. His face was set in a frown as if something genuinely concerned the man. 'Not that he is capable of rational thought,' Kuja thought smugly to himself. He turned back around.

As soon as he did that, quick as a flash, Kefka wrenched his hair back again, planting a kiss on his lips. Kuja let out a cry, arms flailing as he tried to push the clown off him. His lips were firmly pressed against his own, the waxy feel of his makeup transferring onto Kuja's pale skin.

"Mwah!" Kefka said as he pulled away from the kiss with far too much pomp and circumstance. Kuja turned and got to his feet, gaping at the clown in disbelief. He had not been expecting _that_.

Kefka shrugged as a way of explanation. "Call it the spoils of war, my friend." He shot the man a wink and stared at his bare legs lasciviously for a moment. Kuja felt the hairs on his body stand on edge, and he _insisted_ to himself that it had nothing to do with his still-tingling lips.

Kefka saluted the man. "Well, 'til next time, pretty boy! Toodles!" And with that, he was gone.

Kuja blinked dumbly at the space the clown had previously been occupying. His fingers slowly rose to his lips, as if trying to recreate the feeling of having lips pressed against them. He allowed himself to sit back down on the cliff edge, like a man that had been stunned. What _was_ that? For once, Kuja wished he had some that he could confide in and turn to for advice – he certainly needed some help in interpreting the meaning – if any – behind a meeting which included epilating, hidden knives and a hasty kiss.

After a long time had passed, Kuja picked up his epilator again, and finished the job he'd started.


End file.
